Thursday, July 1, 2010

I am sure that you have people that have come through your life, have been a part of your life, and then left it? Generally, you are not too disappointed by the departure, as this person didn't really add anything to your life, and in fact may have made it worse.

Sadly, in our city, the legal community is a compact group of professionals and no one ever really goes out of sight, out of mind. If that person you knew is still in Chicago, you are highly likely to encounter him or her at one point, whether it be in court or another type of activity.

I had a random encounter with just such a person recently.

It was the evening that P.I.C. and I went to Millennium Park for a picnic to listen to live and free music. We were unable to get seats on the lawn, so we perched our blanket on a grassy knoll right across the sidewalk. Truly it was prime seating because we were very close to the lawn, and also close to the walkway where we could watch everyone pass by our seats. For a stalkerperson with a staring problem curious girl like me, it was ideal.

After an hour, I mention to P.I.C., "I find it hard to believe that we haven't seen anyone we know." At that very moment, we both saw someone we knew.

Arrogant Attorney Number 409.* (For sake of brevity, I will call him 409 from here on out.) I knew 409 from when I was in law school. He was an attorney at the law firm at which I was clerking. While he was never a jerk to me, I could sense his misplaced cockiness from back in the day. Fresh out of law school and working for a very profitable, yet small firm, he would get yelled at on the regular. On those days, he would come back into the clerks' office and complain, taking his tie off every. single. time. We suspected he was trying to impress us with his importance as an attorney. Needless to say (and yet I'm going to say it), we were not impressed. He left for another job not long after I started at the firm. After he left, the only time I saw him was after I had my first lawyer job and he'd say something relatively stupid as in, "Hello there, counselor." In typing that, I realize that this doesn't seem stupid, but trust me, his mannerisms made it so.

Only I had no idea that P.I.C. knew 409 and he had no idea that I knew him. I enjoy pretending not to see him and P.I.C. mutters under his breath, "Ugh, what a d-bag."

Turns out, P.I.C. went to law school with him. 409 was as cocky then as he was when I knew him. P.I.C. gave him an awkward half-wave, half-head nod and I proceeded to look the other way. As I mentioned, most encounters with 409 were awkward and rather stupid. Furthermore, I can be snobby, I readily admit that. There are just those days when you don't really want to be pretend nice. This was one of them.

P.I.C. and I spent the next ten minutes or so discussing 409 and comparing stories. The concert proceeded and we had a lovely time.

The very next morning, I was in court and guess who was on the other side? 409. Of course, at this moment, I was unable to pretend that I hadn't seen him at this time, so I chatted him up. No mention was made of the evening before snub. Additionally, I learned that 409 is engaged to be married. We had to schedule a briefing schedule around his Jazz Festival bachelor party.

Of course, this entire story had to be reported to my fellow clerks, us having known him as a bachelor on the prowl (and one who brought a completely inappropriate girl to our firm holiday party) and finding it hard to believe that he was getting married.

Crazy.

*I honestly don't have a reason as to why I picked the number 409. It popped into my head and I went with it. Honestly, have you met an attorney? It's not that far-fetched to imagine there being over 408 arrogant ones, right? He's one of many.